


by the grace of my hands, take in my wonderland

by sebbie



Series: JD in the Pink Pajamas [5]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bathroom Sex, Eventual Fluff, F/F, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, aww it's so cute I'm tagging this like it's such saucy smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29452806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebbie/pseuds/sebbie
Summary: For the second time in her life, Veronica has gone (some measure of) viral because she’d been caught going at it with Heather.
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer
Series: JD in the Pink Pajamas [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615423
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! To my kingdom of hearts  
> Feed my ego with lust  
> Slide my fingers inside  
> and spread you like warpaint on my skin  
> And now you're welcome  
> By the grace of my hands  
> Take in my wonderland
> 
>   
>    
>  [Lilith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-fBYO9pOUg)   
>    
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica "Hot and Bothered" Sawyer. That is to say, feeling guilty.

Flirting with Heather Chandler is hard. Flirting with her during hell week is like trying to seduce a wall that is somehow mildly amused by your antics.

Veronica is frustrated but she isn’t surprised.

After all, Heather established the _No Sex During Hell Week_ Rule well before college officially started. Well, _well_ before. In fact, the first thing Heather did after their high school graduation was to sit her down and tell her— _If you’re living with me for college, I want you to know we can’t have sex during exams week._

The suddenness and the near-absurdity of the declaration caught Veronica so off-guard she was seeing stars after the fact. She hadn’t even gotten around to taking her graduation gown off at that point.

(Has she mentioned that _that’s_ how Heather dropped the official question of living together? _Please, Ronnie, I would be a horrible girlfriend otherwise. We’re going to the same university, after all. And plus, the house has enough rooms if you prefer having your own space._ )

Heather was so intensely serious about it to the point of it being adorable. She scowled and pouted at Veronica until she conceded with a half-hearted, “No sex during hell week. Gotcha.”

Veronica was confused but she agreed. She respects Heather’s boundaries—even if she were suspicious that Heather might’ve be planning something _nefariously_ kinky. Or something. Veronica wasn’t about to put something like _that_ past Heather.

Their sex life was great— _amazing, mind-blowing, pretty fucking spectacu_ —but it’s not like it’s the glue that held their relationship together. At the end of the day, sex was just sex and she’d love Heather regardless. It’s a temporary thing anyway, the rule, Veronica could live with that easy.

 _Still_.

Heather is unabashedly charming and wickedly captivating. She knows who she is, what she can do, and how she can affect people – Veronica most of all – and she was unapologetic about it.

College has further made Heather bolder, and more confident. Even more so after she’d decided to adopt an air of indifference, a shield against Betty’s (surprisingly, hilariously) and Duke’s (less surprising but no less hilariously) incessant teasing post-JD’s short bout with TikTok fame.

With Veronica, she embraced a certain frankness and casual honesty that left Veronica reeling.

_Darling, would you wear a vibrator in public?_

(The question had been thrown her way so carelessly her drink ended up in the wrong pipe. She choked and hacked and coughed, and Heather simply patted her back while waiting for a response. Apparently, Heather had seen an ad for a new adult toy store in the area and she got curious enough to click and... browse their catalogue... while sitting in a fairly busy cafe.)

Except, as far as the last two years have evidenced, no kinky shenanigans have resulted from The Rule(TM). Well, the vibrator thing was still on the table, but that’s besides the point.

As far as Veronica is concerned (or proud of), Heather really is just that—a diligent student. And the Rule is evidence of that.

Throughout high school rumors went around about “nerds” doing homework for the Heathers. They never disputed the claim and Veronica always took those rumors at face value. The trio were by no means dumb, but if you had the power to make other people do your homework... honestly, who wouldn’t take that?

Their worlds didn’t collide (explosively, destructively) and mesh together (gradually, beautifully) until junior year. And by then, Veronica only had an inkling that Heather Chandler might be more capable, sharper and wittier, than people ever gave her credit for. Heather earned Veronica’s grudging respect, even if she tended to be at the wrong end of that brutal cleverness.

College came and Heather, once and for all, slammed all rumors suggesting she bought her spot in a top university. Not that she doesn’t have the privilege of money working to her benefit—never having to worry about rent, or food, or school fees, etc—but Heather _is_ driven and focused and brilliant. And Veronica is utterly, utterly proud of her.

Exam week rolls around and Veronica legitimately feels like she’s stepped into a mirror dimension of her universe in hell. Coffee is the new water, black as her soul and bitter as her world view. Sleep is divided into 30-minute naps or 15-minute meditations scattered throughout the day until all of her requirements are submitted and all her exams are done.

Heather doesn’t quite breeze through it, but she remains so put together she could fool you into thinking she were.

(But Veronica can see the tensed shoulders and the clenched jaw, gets to see the dark circles usually hidden beneath her make-up. Notices the every-now-and-then anxious tapping of her foot, and the way her hair tumbles into messier waves after absent-mindedly combing through it.)

Veronica’s thoughts stutter to a halt. Suddenly she finds herself contending with the overwhelming wave of guilt now roiling in her gut. She buries her face in her hand, groaning and screaming pitifully in the same breath. _Of, course_ Heather is stressed too. It’s freaking _hell_ week and her scarily ambitious, brilliantly overachieving girlfriend had gotten permission to overload that sem.

 _Fuck_.

And Veronica’s been such an ass, bothering the shit outta Heather it’s a wonder she hasn’t gotten herself thrown out of the house. Technically, she hasn’t broken the no-sex rule. Except, every time Veronica finds herself on Heather’s lap, they always end up making out.

Ever the more responsible one, Heather’s always the first to pull away to get them back on track. Except for that one time Veronica’s phone started blaring with the world’s most obnoxious alarm, reminding her that she has a paper to cram.

To say that Veronica is _on the edge_ is an understatement.

Although she never expected the bothered in “hot and bothered” stood for _I feel guilty for being a massive distraction to my girlfriend._

Veronica pouts, sighs, grumbles. She rolls over in her bed, burying her face in the pillow to scream. A moment of agonizing over how to make things up to Heather, Veronica’s phone begins to ring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather is in love and whipped. That's it.

Heather is nearly twenty minutes early to her last exam. The corridor is still empty. Students waiting for their next class aren’t likely to appear for at least another ten minutes. Just as she planned. Heather meant to leave the library earlier but was inclined to remain appropriately studious and go over the last bit of her notes just in case.

After this, Heather’s officially done with hell week. The test, she anticipates, will be easy, if the last two were any indication as to its format. Their professor, though passionate about her field, wasn’t very creative with her written exams. You could get by with memorization and common sense, easy. Her papers were more challenging, but the exam wasn’t likely to have more than two short essay portions so Heather isn’t even remotely worried.

She’s not trying to anticipate her success here too early.

But, _still_.

Heather’s never been one to miss the opportunity to indulge. She walks past the two doors to her classroom, still filled with students from the class before hers, and turns left towards the comfort rooms rather than waiting in the corridor as she usually does.

It’s empty. No one hiding in the stalls either.

Perfect.

Heather fishes her phone out from her bag and calls Veronica, who’d finished her last deadline yesterday and, as far as she knew, had free cut all day.

The phone rings twice before Veronica picks up, evidently confused. “Hey, don’t you have an exam?”

“Not for another twenty minutes, no.” Heather can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of her lips, partly in anticipation of what she’s about to do and partly because hearing Veronica’s voicealways inspires a light sort of contentment in her.

“Did you forget something?” Veronica still sounds confused, though some concern has seeped into her voice. Heather hears shuffling in the background and she pictures Veronica getting out of bed to look at the class schedules she printed and pinned to the cork board in her room. “Are you in CommA for the exam?”

“Yeah.” The place they live in is blessedly close to campus, ten minute on foot even with a fairly relaxed pace and shorter on bike. The Communication Arts building is near the back gate, coincidentally, it’s also the entrance to the school closest to their house.

“Do you need me to bring you anything?”

“Just you.” Heather answers, not wasting time with her response. Sounds in the background stills as Veronica stops moving. Heather continues, “I need a good luck kiss.”

Heather rarely approaches anything in her life with tentativeness, but here was, holding her breath, as she waited for a response.

“Okay.” Veronica’s voice is soft, the hesitance in her tone is fleeting, overcome with exasperated fondness. “You’re a dork. I’ll be there in five.”

Veronica cuts the call and Heather doesn’t bother stopping the grin that breaks onto her face. She leans against the sink, sends one final message to Veronica to tell her she’s in the second floor bathroom before putting her phone back in her bag. Part of her is surprised Veronica had readily agreed to such an inane request, but she’s pleased either way.

Heather feels light and giddy. Somehow, she can’t help but feel like she’s back in high school, playing hooky and trying not to get caught. Except, this time, Veronica is her _girlfriend_ and they’re no longer encumbered by high school drama which is even better.

Heather lets out a happy, little sigh and waits.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which "good luck kiss" devolves into good 'ol fashioned fingering your girlfriend in a bathroom stall.

A few minutes later, Veronica is walking inside the restroom. Heather meets her eyes, guarded at first then, upon seeing that it _is_ Veronica, breaks into a languid smile and a hunger-filled look that startles Veronica as the door swings shut behind her.

“C’mere.” Heather envelops her in a hug. Veronica melts into it as Heather smooshes her face against her hoodie. For once, their height difference isn’t so apparent because Heather’s in sneakers rather than her usual heels.

“You’re going to smudge your make-up.” Veronica says, amused, though she’s got her arms wrapped around Heather’s hips, fingers hooked together and resting on the small of her back.

“Mhm, not wearing enough to smudge.” Heather lifts her head nevertheless. “And anyway, my make-up’s the last thing I’m worried about right now.”

Veronica raises an eyebrow, she quips. “Heather Chandler, not worried about her make-up?”

“Ha-ha.” Heather rolls her eyes, voice dripping with faux annoyance. “You make me sound so conceited.”

“You’re hot.” Veronica shrugs, trying to sound flippant. “You’ve got reason to be conceited.”

Despite herself, Heather preened at the compliment. “I’m hot,” she repeats tilting her head up and studying Veronica down the bridge of her nose, and with that same hungry look from before. “Is that why you’ve been so distracting all week?”

Veronica swallows, flushing slightly. “I... well...”

Heather continues as though Veronica hadn’t spoken. “I’m so hot you couldn’t keep your hands,” her eyes zeroes in on Veronica’s lips, “and mouth off of me?”

Veronica tries to reply but Heather cuts her off with a kiss, mashing their lips together. It’s forceful and eager, and Veronica opens her mouth to Heather’s exploration. It isn’t without a small amount of thrill that Veronica thinks, as much as she can think when Heather is kissing her as though to devour, that despite Heather’s composure, her ability to extricate herself from Veronica and return to her work seemingly unbothered, she’s just as affected as Veronica in the aftermath.

Heather breaks off the kiss with a parting bite, as abrupt as she had begun. Veronica groans, Heather _tuts_. When Veronica opens her eyes, Heather is smirking at her, a mixture of satisfaction and lust glinting in her green eyes.

“I like you like this: thoroughly kissed and panting,” Heather begins to say, one hand cupping Veronica’s cheek, her thumb trailing across the brunette’s puffy lips. “And wearing _my_ color.”

The purr of possessiveness curling into Heather’s declaration, her smudged lipstick and flushed cheeks, makes Veronica kiss her again, deep and languishing this time: slower. Heather curls her fingers in Veronica’s hair and grips tightly as though to pull, her other hand splayed against Veronica’s hip, against her bare skin underneath her hoodie.

Veronica moans, her hands are midway scrambling to unbutton Heather’s blouse when the ten-minute bell sends her crashing back into reality. Was she literally just seconds away from undressing Heather... in a university CR? She breaks away with a gasp, voice hoarse and whiny. “Your exam.”

“I don’t think I’ve had as much luck as I need.” Heather says, bending down to nip at Veronica’s neck.

Veronica’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, swallowing down a groan at the feel of Heather’s teeth scrape against her pulse point. Despite her eagerness to continue, a wave of panic washes over her (more on Heather’s behalf than hers). If she weren’t aware of Heather’s kinks, Veronica would think she’d just _corrupted_ her girlfriend. Then again, considering they’re in a public bathroom on campus, fooling around just ten minutes before Heather’s next class with no signs of Heather being inclined to stop— Veronica thinks she might as well have.

The thought is oddly terrifying and satisfying at the same time.

Despite the closed doors, the sound of chattering students passing by outside prompts Veronica to at least try and get Heather back on track. But Heather’s already dragging her to the stall farthest from the exit, bag already in hand.

“Wait, Heather—” Veronica lets herself get dragged along. Helplessly, she tries again, “You’ve got an exam.”

“Let me worry about that.” Heather murmurs, kissing Veronica on the cheek, locking the door with her left hand and hanging her bag on the hook with her right. And Heather’s back to kissing her again, all teeth and heat that makes Veronica dizzy.

They’re in school. They could get caught. Heather has an exam in a few minutes. It shouldn’t be this hot but it is. Veronica’s halfway through telling herself to evaluate her priorities, still distracted enough not to register the hands roaming beneath her hoodie, when Heather’s fingers brush against her nipple. The sensation sends goosebumps prickling to life on her skin, she shudders.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath.” Heather looked immensely pleased by this, her fingers haven’t stopped with their lazy strokes against Veronica’s breast.

“Thick hoodie,” is all that Veronica manages to say when Heather suddenly pinches her. “ _Fuck_.”

Heather chuckles at her reaction, but amends with a soft kiss on the corner of Veronica’s mouth. “Turn around.”

Veronica obeys, but not without trying to remind Heather of the time. The taller girl shushes her with a firm _let me worry about that_ , and instructs her to put both hands against the stall door.

Just like that, Heather’s pressed against her one leg between Veronica’s knees, hands roaming underneath her hoodie.

“What was your motivation, Ronnie?” Heather asks, voice quiet but playful. “Malicious compliance? My girlfriend said we can’t fuck during exams week so I teased her instead.”

It startles a laugh out of Veronica even as she tries to grind against Heather’s thigh in search of more friction. “I’m not _that_ clever.”

“No?” Heather’s hand trails downwards, caressing Veronica’s navel, inching down further still beneath the waistband of Veronica’s shorts then resting just above her mound. “What was it, then?”

Veronica tries to come up with a response to save her dignity. Meanwhile, Heather’s sucking and biting at her pulse point, left hand kneading at her breast and pinching her nipple, right hand remaining infuriatingly still. Veronica moves her hips, trying to roll against Heather’s hand to get her to move. “Heather, _please_.”

“Answer, Veronica.” It’s a warning. Veronica grits her teeth and shivers.

She presses her forehead against the stall door, shutting her eyes tight. “I wanted to fluster you. Revenge for that stupid party game.”

Heather stops moving. Veronica turns her head, trying to see the expression on Heather’s face. For her part, the blonde looked incredulous then amused then teasing.

“Well,” Heather says slowly, as if tasting the words before they’re made into sound. “You succeeded.”

At the look on Veronica’s face Heather asks, “Does it surprise you how much you can affect me, Ronnie?”

Veronica doesn’t get to reply because Heather’s already kissing her, it’s brief, the position being a bit awkward, but intense as all things are with the blonde. Finally, Heather’s right hand moves further down, her own groan of pleasure intermingling with Veronica’s breathy moan as her fingers move in long, firm strokes against Veronica’s vulva.

“Shit. You’re so wet.”

“Aren’t you?” Veronica asks with as much daring as she can muster. Heather laughs, murmurs something low that vaguely resembles ‘cheeky.’ Heather brings her left hand down, touching the inside of Veronica’s thigh and prompting her to move her legs farther apart.

And then Heather’s fingers are moving inside her. Self-consciousness is a distant notion as Veronica hips roll, grinding against Heather’s hand in her endeavor to match her rhythm.

“Did you enjoy teasing me?” Heather demands, quiet and breathy, her voice is loud in Veronica’s ears, drowning out the growing din of students in the corridor outside. “Were you masturbating in your room knowing I was downstairs, nose deep in readings?”

“Yes.” Veronica admits to the first, gasps as Heather focuses on her sensitive spot. Then, to the second question she grits out. “No.”

“No?”

Veronica shakes her head. Before she can respond the bathroom door outside swings open. Veronica stills but Heather’s fingers keep moving inside her, her other hand is still tugging and swiping at her nipples in an unpredictable pattern.

Three girls have walked inside. The only consolation is that they’re loud as they complain about their exam. Veronica is suddenly hyperaware of all the noises outside, the stall door swinging open and shut, the click of the lock, the faucet being turned on, and the girls’ back and forth.

Heather’s thumb swipes at her clit without warning, making Veronica buck in response. Heather, still waiting for her answer, asks, “Why didn’t you masturbate?” Veronica can hear the grin as much as she can feel it with Heather muffling the question against the side of her nape.

Veronica tries to weigh her options, hips jerking unevenly despite her attempts to stay still as Heather’s fingers continue relentlessly. Finally, she says, “I didn’t want to-“ Veronica gasps harshly, it’s loud enough one of the girls stop talking abruptly. Her friend, fortunately, doesn’t notice and drags her back into the conversation for her answer to the ‘torque problem in 5-B.’

As the girl continues with her explanation, Veronica whispers, her words uttered between truncated breaths, “Didn’t want to cum without you.”

The admission makes Veronica blush brighter than she already is. Heather hums behind her approvingly. When one of the girls who finished washing their hands went to the air dryer, Heather continued. “So, if I bring you to the edge now, you’ll be patient? If leave you to take my hour and half long exam and tell you to go back home and keep touching yourself, you will?”

“Yes.” Veronica nods, jerkily, Heather’s left hand has since moved down, stroking her clit in circular movements. Veronica distantly registers the sound of flushing, a faucet being turned on again, the air dryer dying down. The sounds swirl in her head, much of her attention spent hanging onto Heather’s every word, and trying to keep her voice in.

“If I tell you that you can’t cum until you’ve satisfied me, will you still be patient?” Heather punctuates the question with a bite on the junction where her nape and shoulder meets, it startles Veronica enough to let out squeak. The faucet, _thankfully_ , drowns out her slip. Not that Veronica believes there’s any point because the _yes_ she tries to utter is incoherent, a mewl more than any recognizable word, desperate and whiny.

The door outside opens, and the girls who walked in earlier finally take their leave. Veronica, miraculously, still has enough presence of mind to register the clacking of heels against the tiled floor as someone else enters. There’s a soft thud, presumably a bag being placed on the counter near the sinks, and the sound of someone rummaging through it.

This time, Veronica removes both hands from the stall door, instead leaning into it and covering her mouth.

“I won’t demand patience from you now.” Heather murmurs, Veronica thinks she can hear the hourly bell ringing in the distance, but Heather drowns away those thoughts as she peppers kisses on Veronica’s jaw, just below her ear, nipping and sucking downwards on the side of her neck.

Heather redoubles her efforts, her strokes and ministrations no longer teasing or lazy by any measure. The need to remain quiet, to stay still enough she doesn’t jostle the stall door forces Veronica to focus entirely on the sensation of Heather’s fingers in and on her. Veronica’s legs shake with the effort to keep herself upright, her hips twitch jerkily into Heather’s touch, the stall door rattles, Veronica tries to keep still. But, oh, _oh_ she’s so close.

“You may cum, Veronica.” Heather whispers into her ear, then kissing and biting at her lobe.

It takes all of Veronica’s self-restraint not to cry out as pleasure pulsates from her core in a blinding heat. She clamps down onto Heather’s fingers tight enough she hears Heather groan behind her. Veronica brings her legs together on instinct. The muscles in her stomach clench in a violent, uneven rhythm.

Veronica throws her weight off the door and against Heather who catches her easily. Heather is shushing her, fingers still stroking though with more gentleness as Veronica comes down. Heather doesn’t stop until Veronica, sensitive from her orgasm, brings her hands to grasp at Heather’s wrists.

“Stop.” She manages to groan in between pants. “Please,” Veronica adds, then, almost as an afterthought murmurs out a “thank you.” Her voice is just above a whisper, loud enough she knows whoever was outside could probably hear her. (Did it matter anyway? Veronica doubted they were being subtle.)

Heather pulls her hand away, chuckling as she does so. Veronica, still on shaky legs, turns to face Heather and kisses her, a luxuriating, grateful kiss.

“I think I’m sufficiently lucky for that exam now.” Heather’s expression is as wry as it is fond. They ignore the sound of someone clearly, hurriedly leaving the bathroom.

“I promise I’ll return the favor later.” Veronica says, feeling giggly and light, giving Heather a peck on the lips. “You can sit on my face. I’ll make you cum until you can’t stand.”

Heather grins at this. “Well, with a promise like that I’m sure I’ll ace that test.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write smut. I just can't.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone makes a post about Heather and Veronica on their university's freedom wall page.

It’s Sunday, two days after hell week. It’s nine in the morning, too early for Veronica’s taste to already be awake on a weekend but the gang was dropping by today, and the last thing she wants is a repeat of JD and Duke bursting inside her (or Heather’s) bedroom and catching them naked (again).

Twice was two many times too many. Regardless of whether or not Duke has seen Chandler naked because “we’ve been friends since we were in diapers” or that JD has seen both of them in all their naked glory having consented to adding _benefits_ to their already existent friendship a year ago when Heather had a more-than brief interest in exploring threesomes (the interest has since passed, but that was an _interesting_ experience to say the least).

Either way.

The result is this: It’s Sunday, 9:32 AM. Veronica is awake and munching away unenthusiastically at her cereal and reading (see: skimming) a book she needs for one of her electives on her phone. She’s midway through a paragraph about the “impermanence of life” and the “yearning for human connection” it creates when a notification pops up on top of her screen.

> **Messenger**  
>  Jay-D  
>  _Dis u?_

Veronica clicks on the notification at the same time JD sends her a Facebook link for their university’s freedom wall page. She clicks on that too.

> **#FW2189** __  
> Thursday. CommA, 2nd Flr CR. 3pm-ish.  
>  _@V (yeah I heard ur name but I’ll be nice and wont say)_ __  
> Pretty sure I failed my calc test but congrats on getting laid. proud of u. truly inspiring,, uwu

Veronica reads it. Re-reads it. Then reads it again. A weird sense of deja vu comes crawling down her spine. The situation felt ridiculous enough to warrant a dramatic dropping-of-her-spoon-in-her-bowl-of-cereal-milk-splashing-everywhere reaction.

She scrolls through the comments.

Most of them were teasing jibes and ironic words of encouragement. All in good fun. Eight comments in there’s a Nicole T— who said:

> _Holy f U C k. So I really DID hear someone MOAnInG in one of the stalls?!!?? Fucking told u so_ **_@Jules @Kate_ **

There’s one reply underneath by Kate.

> _I, too, would take getting rawed in the CommA bathrooms over engg tests any day._

Veronica is saved from scrolling further down into the rabbit hole known as the Freedom Wall comments section when JD messages her again.

> _Chan-chan said it *was* u._

Veronica lets out a strangled gasp of “ _Heather!_ ”

It would have been amusing to note that she sounded exactly like her mother after witnessing something particularly scandalizing (spoon-dropping included). Veronica always thought her mom sounded overly melodramatic, like she was trying too hard to emulate the characters in the soaps she liked to watch. Veronica was too horrified by the turn of events to find the similarity humorous—not so much the idea of getting caught, which she’d already made peace with anyway, but the fact that someone caught them _and_ made a post about it.

Heather walks into the kitchen, looking unflappable as she usually does though there’s a slight tint of pink to her cheeks. She has an eyebrow raised and her lips are pressed together in a haughty line, the expression is both a question and a challenge. Veronica’s only response to it are garbled noises and a very convincing impression of a fish who found himself drowning on land and finding it incredulous.

“Do close your mouth, darling.” Heather says, unabashed, she walks towards Veronica and peers at her phone. She scrolls back to the post, _tut-tut_ s disapprovingly before saying, “She really typed ‘uwu’. How tacky.”

“ _That’s_ your concern?!” Veronica exclaims, flailing her arms about. Before she can get completely off-track, she asks, “And why did you tell _JD_?”

“Better me telling him than JD commenting ‘does V stand for Veronica?’ on that post.” Heather gestures towards the phone with a careless wave.

Veronica groans. Yes, of course. JD _would_ do something that stupid. He’d probably tag her too. Veronica brings a hand to her face, massaging her temple and swiping downwards with marked frustration. She sighs loudly.

Heather clicks her tongue. “We’ve gone viral for making out in 7/11. Tens of thousands who saw our faces versus an anonymous post with less than a hundred of comments and reacts combined.”

“We were at the back and our faces were pixelated.” Veronica shoots back, knowing the argument is pointless since JD is front and center, meaning that anyone in their small town who could’ve seen that would know, easily and without doubt, who they were by association.

A fact confirmed by Heather’s next statement. “Please. If you remember, my mother saw that video and decided to give me a PowerPoint presentation on safe sex practices for lesbian couples.”

Veronica laughs. She remembers the aftermath of that particular incident very clearly. She really did appreciate Mrs. Chandler’s well-intentioned show of support and, of course, her limitless capacity to mortify Heather soundly. If only, she could see them now. She’d probably deliver a PowerPoint on the why bathroom (public restroom) sex is unsafe. It would be filled with statistics about germs and the like.

Finally, Veronica just sighs again, more resigned this to me than frustrated, and shakes her head. She reaches out and takes Heather’s hand in hers, tugging gently and tilting her head up for a kiss.

Heather lets herself be pulled into it. The kiss tasted of sugar and the tanginess of the artificial flavoring of the now soggy cereal Veronica had been eating.

“I love you.” Veronica says as they pull away. “If all that ‘good luck’ didn’t give you a hundred on that exam, I’m going to complain.”

Heather grins at this, waggling her eyebrows, expression perfectly shit-eating. “My professor did email me saying my short essays were _inspired_.”

Veronica makes a sound halfway between a snort and choking. “I’d bet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if it was obvious in [i'm so drunk on you (you might kill me with desire)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25627807) that JD, at some point, had a threesome with Heather and Veronica. If it were (or weren't?), here's the confirmation anyway.
> 
> I guess, the idea is that Heather wanted to explore it and both she and Veronica didn't want the mess of inviting a stranger into their relationship. In my mind's eye, JD went with it because "Chandler's hot and I've always wanted to do it with Ronnie." He's probably trying to annoy Heather, but she probably made an off-hand comment about, "We've all _always_ wanted to do it with her."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forever, then.

A week later, FW2189 has become the most popular submission on the page. For the second time in her life, Veronica has gone (some measure of) viral because she’d been caught going at it with Heather.

High School Junior Veronica would be gagging with disbelief, too high on the escalating aggression resulting from her vicious rivalry with Heather (Demon Queen of Westerburg vs The Only Freak Who Stood Up To A Heather and Lived) to realize all that tension could have been remedied by a quickie in the girl’s locker room. Nearly A College Junior Veronica is just resigned, indulgent, and far more affectionate than she ought to be.

JD _did_ end up tagging her on the post, but not before having the blessed _fucking_ decency to wait until eight other Vs (one of them being another Veronica) have all been jokingly tagged by their friends. The Heathers teased her, unsurprisingly. Chandler waved off her own embarrassment by being smug. Her needling was adorable enough to not be _completely_ annoying. Betty and JD were annoyingly in-sync with their digs. _Even_ Martha (the traitor) didn’t let her live it down.

At least it did result to Heather revoking the _No Sex During Hell Week_ Rule, which Veronica felt eager to take as a win. Something about not using deadlines as “an excuse to completely deprive one’s self of sex,” Heather’s words not hers.

 _We won't survive the stress without sex, darling._ I _definitely won't survive you teasing me like that again. What if we're married and you're cramming to finish a draft for your fourth best-seller, and I'm working on the most high profile trial on the year?_

And, just like that, ridiculous as the situation it had arisen from had been, everything is bright and Veronica’s heart is fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings.

Even though Heather had made the comment flippantly, a jibe more than anything. She moved on to a different topic after she'd said it, probably not realizing the significance of her words. But Veronica hung on to the slip, Heather's unconscious letting itself known, leaving her awash in excitement and a certain sense of bliss.

Heather Chandler is thinking of marrying her.

The object itself - that is, marriage - isn’t what makes Veronica dizzyingly giddy, though she finds the idea of exchanging vows with Heather, surrounded by their loved ones, the best boon she could ever ask for in any lifetime. No, indeed, it isn’t _precisely_ marriage that excites Veronica. Rather, it’s the fact that Heather is _thinking_ of a future with them together that does.

Veronica realizes she’d go through it all over again to be where she is now.

She would prostrate herself before the Heathers and beg for their protection, only to commit social suicide a week later in defense of her oldest friend. Yeah, she’d let JD string her along with his dumbass pranks to get back at the Heathers, as she drags herself up in the shitty social hierarchy of Westerburg High one agonizing rung at a time in an attempt to topple the Demon Queen.

High school was painful for all of them. But, gods, they all made it out of hell, alive and kicking and far more fiercely loyal to each other than any enemies turned friends ought to be.

Heather, seemingly sensing Veronica’s wakeful musings, stirs in her sleep. She peers at Veronica with one, barely cracked open eye. “You okay?”

“‘M perfect.” Veronica whispers, kissing the top of Heather’s head. She thinks, _Everything right now, in this moment, is beautiful._ To Heather, she says, “Go back to sleep.”

Heather mumbles something, and burrows herself deeper against Veronica’s chest. Dawn is still far, the sun won’t be filtering through their curtains with its ethereal morning light for yet another few hours. So, Veronica closes her eyes and imagines, somewhere in the horizon of her mind, an image of forever painted by her and Heather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to reference the earlier stories in this fic series, and also hint at what happened before [_Can We Kiss Forever?_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22365514)
> 
> I may or may not have issues keeping my own timeline straight. But I always have issues keeping anything straight.

**Author's Note:**

> To the peeps who still give my fics kudos or leave comments, I love y'all.


End file.
